Enjoy, I love this chapter!
_______

My fingers were tapping against my knee more out of nerves than to the beat of the music, considering I was slightly disappointed when I got into Reese's pick up and country was playing. It wasn't my favorite genre, to put it nicely, but I had too much on my mind to really care. Instead, I was busied with the excitement of finally figuring out what and where "the tracks" were.

After all, if Nathan and Alex know about them, then Thomas does too. Maybe going to the tracks would clue me into the 'other side' of Thomas that Nathan had alluded to when he said I didn't know who Thomas Clark really was. So as we drove past the city limits, I paid attention through the passenger's seat window and remembered which roads we were taking to get there.

"So, how long have you known Nathan?" Reese asks conversationally as he glances in my direction with a sheepish smile. "Sorry if that's nosy, but I saw you two talking in the store earlier."

I laugh at his nervous backtracking and tell him, "We've been in high school together since freshman year, but we were never really friends until a week or two ago."

He nods in understanding. "Do you go to Littleton High?"

"Yeah," I answer, and then realize I've never seen him around before. "Do you go to Kennedy or something?"

Reese's lips quirk up as he answers, "I go to Drexel."

I move my gaze from out the window to steal a glance at his profile, which was only lit up by the headlights and street lights. "So you're a college man, huh?"

He spares a quick glance at me and smiles. "Yeah, I'm a sophomore there."

"What are you majoring in?" I ask in genuine interest as I wonder if he and Stephanie have ever crossed paths before.

"Music engineering," Reese glances at me quickly and adds, "And I have a minor in music theory."

"That's awesome," I supplement. "I take it you want a job in the music industry?"

I look back out the window as Reese got off at the next exit and continued driving through a deserted looking town. For a fleeting second, I worried that he was going to take me to some barn and kill me, but then I remember the pepper spray my mom always makes me carry, and decide I can fend for myself. Besides, Reese seems like a nice guy, and it was a little too late to start to think otherwise.

He chuckles and asks sarcastically, "What gave it away?" I laugh along, and then he says thoughtfully, "I've always been really into music ever since I was a kid."

Talking to Reese came easily considering we were discussing my favorite topic: music. I grew up sitting in the living room with my dad on Sunday mornings as he played his favorite vinyls, teaching me to appreciate older music from a young age. I had an admiration for Frank Sinatra that couldn't be rivaled by anyone, not to mention Louis Armstrong.

"Who's your favorite artist?" I ask curiously.

Reese shakes his head. "That's a hard question." Then he glances at me sideways and asks, "Who's yours?"

I try to think of just one, but end up looking at him with a defeated smile. "You're right, it is a hard question." I try to narrow down my favorites and eventually answer, "My favorites are probably Billie Holiday and Van Morrison. But I'm also a sucker for the Rolling Stones, as you've already witnessed."

He laughs as he turns down a dirt road with faint lights coming from the distance. "I've never met a girl who doesn't have a weakness for One Direction. Or has your music taste at all, really. It's refreshing."

I smile nostalgically as I reminisce on my beloved Sunday mornings. "You can thank my dad for my music taste."

Reese nods. "Make sure to extend my thanks to him."

I don't correct Reese and say that I haven't seen my father in over eight years. Instead, I laugh lightly and focus on the building that's suddenly coming into view as the glow of light around it becomes more prominent. My nerves start back up again with the tapping on my leg as we near the stadium-like building and I begin to hear music.

When we round the big black building, we suddenly enter another world. There are rows of cars parked on the dirt in no specific order, most of them pick up trucks, and people milling about in between them. Thirty yards from the designated parking area was a jet black race track with a concrete wall around the perimeter, and a parking area attached beside the track where racing cars idled and the drivers talked to each other.

There was a stage behind the race track, where several speakers were set up and blaring the music. On the stage stood a table that was surrounded by many beefy looking men with tattoos wrapped up and down their arms as they handed cash over to the man sitting behind the table. The huge black building was a garage, where other racing cars seemed to be tucked away. Everywhere I looked, people were walking around, in between cars and leaned against the partition around the racetrack.

Reese pulls his car into a spot at the end of the line and secures a spot for us. I practically jump out of the car the second Reese kills the engine as my curiosity overtakes me. I walk to the bed of the pick up, which is facing the racetrack, and look around. A few rows away, there's a sleek red sports car with a team of guys checking out the engine and straight ahead, there were a few guys in grease-stained tee shirts looking under the hood of a race car.

The sudden roaring of engines pull me out of my daze and Reese appears by my side. "A race is about to start. Come up here for a better view."

He pulls himself onto the bed of his truck effortlessly and then helps me up as well. Once I'm standing in the back of his pick up, I gaze around to see tattooed spectators begin to mount their trucks for a better view. I look to the racetrack and see a bookie collecting last minute bets as a girl with a bright orange flag and high heels starts walking toward the starting line, where two cars were revving their engines.

"This is so cool," I say breathlessly as I let my gaze finally fall on the two cars.

My heart stops when I see a familiar black Mustang on the other side of the starting line and my jaw practically drops. That can't be him, can it?

"Is that-" I begin to ask, whipping around to look at Reese with wide eyes.

He turns to me with his brow furrowed. "Yeah, it's Nathan. I thought you knew that he raced."

Nathan races. That's the reason why he didn't want to tell me about the tracks. My brain started working like a wildfire, spreading out the tidbits of information to piece all of it together. Nathan races, and Alex told Nathan to stay off the tracks, which means Alex and his buddies must race, too. And if Alex races, then so could Thomas.

"Do you know Thomas Clark?" I blurt without thinking, my eyes still glued to the tracks as the provocatively dressed girl raises the flag over her head.

Reese says, "Yeah, he's Rhodes' biggest competitor."

A gunshot sounds the same second that the girl shifts the flag down, and both cars accelerate past her with ease. I watch in awe as Nathan's car pulls in front of his opponents with having the advantage of getting on the inside. Flawlessly, he drifts around the first bend and leaves the other car a few yards behind him. I watch as Nathan's car surges forward even more and create even more space between he and his opponent.

"You look mesmerized ," Reese jokes as he nudges my shoulder with his.

I give him a sheepish smile, but feel my heart pounding against my chest in the excitement of it all. "It's just so cool."

Reese laughs loudly. "Yeah, I think you mentioned that."

When Nathan crossed the finish line way before his competitor, I let out a breathless laugh, and then smiled to myself. I still felt my heart thumping wildly in my chest as if I had been the one racing. My first thought is to run to him and congratulate him, to tell him how thrilling the entire thing was, and ask what it's like for him. But then I remember the last words he uttered, telling me not to come here tonight, and I had to restrain my impulses.

My next rational thought was that Nathan Rhodes, under no circumstances, could see me here with Reese tonight. If he saw me when he deliberately told me not to come... well, I had a feeling he wouldn't take it too well. And even though I considered us friends, I was still painfully aware of the mantra going around school: nobody messes with Nathan Rhodes. So, I certainly wouldn't, either.

"He's amazing," I say, stunned, and then turn to Reese. "That was awesome."

"Yeah, he's one of the best guys here. People always bet on Nathan," Reese tells me casually, completely unaware that this new information was so interesting to me. "Clark and his friend, Fisher, are both pretty good racers."

"Alex Fisher?" I clarify.

When Reese nods, I wonder if Nathan and Alex had a rivalry too, and that's why they hated each other. I mean, it would make sense. Their hatred couldn't have sparked from mid air.

"Do you want to go congratulate Nathan?" Reese asks suddenly.

"No," I reject the thought quickly and look at him with a fake smile. "Actually, I have to go to the bathroom. Do you know where it is?"

Reese blinked at me, surprised by the sudden shift in conversation, before he pointed to a small building just a little bit away from where we were now. "It's right there."

I smile as I hop off the truck. "Thanks. I'll be right back."

"I'll be right here," Reese promises with a cheeky grin.

I walk through the rows of cars and dodge the strangers loitering around and suddenly feel lucky that Reese was the guy that showed me this place. After all, the majority of the guys here looked tough and tatted: a force to be reckoned with in their leather jackets. In an attempt to not draw unwanted attention to myself, I keep my head down until I reach the bathroom unscathed.

I stand in front of the dingy mirror and wash my hands with cold water, then put my cool hands against my cheeks. I still felt overwhelmed with excitement from watching the race and everything that was going on around me. After I took a few deep breaths, I grab a paper towel and wipe off my hands before I rejoin the rowdy atmosphere outside.

I try to maneuver through the crowds and go back the way I came, but I quickly get confused by the rows and rows of cars. Everyone was doing the same thing- drinking with a group of friends in the beds of their trucks- and it was getting difficult to distinguish one row from another. Eventually, I end up walking in a circle, and unfortunately catch the unwanted attention that I had been trying to avoid.

"Hey baby, you lost?" An obnoxious guy leaning against the back of his pickup asks when I walk by. "You can sit down and have a drink with me."

I'm painfully aware of his dark eyes following my movements, but ignore his comment and walk past his car. His friends who had been sitting up on the bed of the truck wolf whistled as I passed, and I refrained from shivering in disgust. Finally, though, I managed to spot Reese's pick up a few cars down, and I walked over to it.

My movements slowed when I reached his car but didn't see Reese standing where I had left him. I rounded the front of the car and saw my purse in the front seat, confirming that it was indeed his car, and then frowned. I assume that maybe he went looking for me, and I round the car again to get on the back of the truck to get a better view, but the guy from earlier is blocking my way.

His lips curl into a disgusting smirk. "Didya hear me back there? I said you should have a drink with me."

I feel a bad feeling set into the pit of my stomach as I look at him and raise my chin, trying to feign the same confidence I do in school right now. "I'm here with someone."

"Where is he?" The man in front of me asks as he leans forward. I can smell the beer on his breath and try not to cringe. "I don't see nobody."

I felt my heart begin to thump quicker against my chest as I take a step back, toward the passengers seat, thinking of the can of pepper spray in my purse. "Get the hell away from me, alright? My boyfriend is coming back soon."

My empty threats only made him smirk wider. "Then lets have our fun before he gets back, huh?"

His calloused hand reached out for my waist as he took a step closer, but his meaty fingers merely brushed the fabric of my shirt before it was gone. I️ watched the man stumble backward in disgusted shock until his body jerked around.

Nathan stood behind him with a scowl on his face as his fist reared back and landed on my attacker's jaw. The man fell onto the ground with a loud thud and groans of pain as I stood there, wide eyed, frozen to my spot.

Nathan grabbed a fist full of the mans shirt and pulled him up so they were face to face as he growled, "Don't fucking touch her."

The guy nodded vehemently in his daze of pain, and Nathan dropped his shirt so the man fell back onto the ground. I watched as Nathan's broad shoulders, tense and rigid, straighten as he begins to turn toward me. His eyes were darkened in anger and the scowl was still apparent on his features, and I immediately knew he was furious.

I stared back at him with wide eyes, my heart beating wildly in my chest. The very person who told me not to come here in the first place had just saved me from the grimy hands of some asshole. A stiff chill ran down my spine as my gaze shifts briefly to the stumbling man on the ground.

I️ looked back up at Nathan and stared. I didn't know whether to attack him in a hug or succumb to my fear first.

Nathan and I were in a stand off for a moment as he looked at me from his heated gaze, before he took a few steps forward and grabbed my hand tightly, then pulled me toward the front of Reese's truck. He stopped by the passenger door and reached in the window to grab my bag before shoving it into my arms, and then continued to drag me away from the car.

Timidly, I look up at Nathan to see his strong jaw set, eyes ablaze, and an indestructible expression on his face. Without looking at me, his sharp voice booms, "I told you not to come tonight."

In an attempt to sound confident, I offer, "I needed answers," but I sound more hesitant than I wanted to.

"No," Nathan snaps. "You wanted answers to questions you shouldn't ask. If I weren't here, that scumbag wouldn't have stopped. Were the fucking answers worth that?"

He stops walking to glare at me heatedly, and the intensity in his gaze weighs me down as I feel the reality of the situation settle in my stomach. If Nathan hadn't come when he did, who knows what would've happened. I think he saw the plain fear on my face, because he suddenly dropped my hand to run it through his hair.

When he glances back at me, his expression softens an almost unnoticeable, smallest bit. "You're probably the most curious person I've ever met, and your curiosity is getting you into trouble you don't want to be in."

I decide to ignore his forewarning and say quietly, "Thank you for saving me."

Similarly, Nathan ignores my thanks and asks, "Where the hell was Aaron? I know that was his truck, but he was nowhere in sight."

Hearing Nathan incorrectly address Reese took a little bit of the edge off of the situation, and I even managed to point out, "You know his name is Reese." Nathan looks unamused, so I continue, "He said he would stay at the truck when I went to the bathroom, but when I got back, he was gone."

Nathan's eyes darkened again. "He left you alone. Here." His voice was steely and cut straight through me as he shook his head and reminded me, "I told you not to come."

This time, instead of trying to defend myself, I just stayed silent. Nathan let out a heavy breath and muttered to tell me to follow him, and I did, very closely. I was too on edge about what just happened to feel bad about leaving Reese here and instead go home with Nathan, and merely made a mental note to text him that I had left once I was in Nathan's car.

We weaved through the lines of cars and people toward the big building I had seen before, where I guessed Nathan's car was. We enter through the opening of the poorly lit garage, and the first thing I see is a familiar looking Mustang to confirm my suspicions.

The car ride was silent as he pulled out of the garage and away from the tracks, leaving the stadium lights in his rearview while we drove on the gravel path back to the main road. The silence between us was far louder than any noise, and I grew uncomfortable quickly.

I felt the need to fill the silent air and blurt the first thing that comes to mind. "You were awesome in the race tonight. Seriously, it was incredible to watch."

He doesn't answer immediately, and I feel even more nervous than before. I didn't blame him for being angry with me and want to ignore me for the rest of the car ride back. But right when I accepted the fact he wouldn't answer, he spoke.

"The guy I was racing was terrible," Nathan finally grunts. "He made me look good."

I can't help but smile at his humble answer. "Reese said you were one of the best racers here. That wasn't just your opponent being bad; that was you being good."

"I told you not to come," Nathan repeats abruptly as he addresses the elephant in the car. "It's dangerous."

I almost open my mouth to protest him, but judging by the sharp jawline and fire in his eyes, the last thing I should do is agitate him. 

"Besides," He mutters. "I don't want to spend my time making sure you don't get in trouble. I'm not your bodyguard."

My smile drops and I sigh as my shoulders sink back into the car. I was just as tired as he probably was. It was emotionally and physically exhausting trying to stay awake after being groped by some drunk stranger and then yelled at by your ex boyfriend, all while depending on the bad boy in school to make sure you didn't get yourself in trouble.

"I know," I say in defeat. "I'm sorry. And thank you, really, for helping me." When he doesn't answer, I add: "But the races were amazing to watch."

He lets out an annoyed breath at the word but. "It's not a good place to be, Lauren. There aren't good people there. Someone like you doesn't belong at the tracks."

I frown as I stare at his profile. His jaw was set again, his eyes glaring at the road, and his knuckles clenching the wheel so tight that they were turning into a faded shade of white. His words held authority and confidence, and for some adverse reason, something about that made me want to challenge him even more.

"Come on, Nate, that's bullshit." I defend quickly and without even realizing I had given Nathan a nickname. "I can handle myself at a place like that."

"You sure proved that tonight," He says sarcastically, then mumbles, "And don't call me Nate."

Instead of pestering him about the nickname, I stayed on course. "I was there for an hour before things got bad. Besides, I wasn't prepared for something like that; if I knew that could happen, I would've carried my pepper spray with me."

"Lauren," Nathan groans, clearly exasperated. He runs a hand down his face when he stops at the first red light we hit. Then he turns to me, his dark eyes serious and staring straight into mine. "Please don't fight me on this. Just tell me that you won't go to the tracks anymore."

I decided to take pity on him because of two reasons. One, he looked entirely worn out for the first time ever, so I could tell that